


Dragon Age: The Search for Truth

by xxxRosebudxxx



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Antiva, Dreams, Fantasy, Ferelden, Ghosts, Mabari, Mabari Puppies, Mages, Magic, Magisters, Memories, Nugs, Original Character(s), Orlais, Spirits, Tevinter Imperium, The Fade, Thedas, slave rebellion
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 08:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5284055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxRosebudxxx/pseuds/xxxRosebudxxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WARNING! MAJOR TRESPASSER SPOILERS!!!<br/>Inquisitor Lavellen dies a few months after defeating Fen'Harel, but she leaves behind a daughter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Varric finally released the quill from his cramping fingers, and looked up at the Inquisitor, his friend Ellana with a wary smile. She had been ill for months now, with the remnence of the anchor slowly taring her apart from the inside. There was no healer or physician that could save her, they could only heal damage being done temporarily before the anchor set ruin again. Her body couldn’t take much more, the only comfort were potions for the pain, and they were becoming less and less effective. She had her back laid against a mountain of pillows she struggled for every breath she took, with a horrid hissing with every inhale and exhale. The dwarf knew well she didn’t have much longer now.

“It’s finished?” she asked, her voice was like nails were scraping against her throat.

His hands smoothed over the manuscript he’d just finished with her instructions; a memoir of all that had started and ended the Inquisition’s reign. Varric had already written his own account with all his exaggerated flare and romantic touches of detail, but this one was different. This was Ellana’s final wish for her people the elves, for them and all of Thedas to know the truth of not just the Inquisition but their history and all that had been discovered. 

“Yeah..it’s done.”

She smiled, a wave of relief washed over her emerald green eyes.

“Thank you Varric, you’ll never know how much-“

Her face contorted, grinding her teeth as she felt her insides being twisted and pulled. She popped open the last potion left and chugged it down within seconds, fighting the urge to cry from the pain. While her friend shook his head solemnly, while he’d lost many friends…he’d never had to watch as it happened. He met her gaze again when the anchor calmed, and her body eased.

“You’ll see to it that my people read it?”

“There won’t be an elf in all of Thedas that doesn’t have access to it.”

“And my Dirthara, she especially must know. She must!”

Tears formed in her eyes, and she quickly wiped them away before they could fall down her cheeks.

“I could leave in peace if not for her. First her father, and now her mother.” She cried.

Varric reached and took her by the hand firmly.

“We’ll all look after her, everyone on of us. She’ll never be alone.”

She nodded in understanding, yet still had to wipe away more tears before regaining her composure. 

“Please, send Dorian and her in. I need to see them.”

Another wary smile crossed the dwarf’s faces as he nodded, before he stood up and headed out the bed chamber. Just outside the door was a crowd of all the Inquisitor’s and his companions gathered, nearly all had seen their dear friend and leader for one last meeting. Except for two, Dorian and the small child called Dirthara that he held affectionately in his arms. She had dark chocolate colored hair just like her mother, but her strong cheekbones and cool blue eyes were like her father.

“Can I see Mamae now?” she squeaked.

Varric effectively hid all signs of dread and sadness from his face, and put on a brave face for Dirthara.

“Yes Little Star, you can go on ahead.”

“Varric-how is she?” asked Dorian, who was unable to hide his concerns.

“I…doubt it’ll be much longer, you better get in there.”

The mage strode forward without need for another word, almost charging to bring the child to her mother. He sighed with relief to see her eyes still open, and even smiling as she reached out her arm for Dirthara. 

“Mamae!” Dirthara yelped, eagerly stretching her arms out to her.

“Ma lath!” replied Ellana, joyfully.

Dorian gently lowered the now squirming girl into the Inquisitor’s arms, before taking a seat beside the two on the bed. Mother and daughter squeezed each other tightly, with kisses shared all over their cheeks and foreheads like a game. Ellana peered her eyes to Dorian.

“There is something in my nightstand for her, could you?”

He leaned over to the nightstand in question opening the draw and his mouth gaped open in surprise at what he saw before, pulling out a familiar necklace of a wolf’s jawbone. Ellana reached out her hand for it, and he complied with understanding glistening in his eyes.

“Dirthara ma lath, I have a gift for you.”

The child propped up her head in curiosity, and then her eyes widened in wonder at the necklace. One of her tiny hands grasped the jawbone as Ellana carefully slung the strings around her neck.  
“It belonged to your Papae, he wanted you to have it.”  
“Papae?”  
Ellana nodded, gently cupping her child’s face and planting a firm kiss on her brow before whispering in Elvhen. 

“Be strong, and seek wisdom where ever you can find it. Don’t ever forget I love you.”

She squeezed Dirthara one more time, with tears escaping her eyes. Then suddenly her face cringed as she felt the anchor taring again, and pushed Dirthara away from her.

“Mamae?”

“Dorian-take her! Don’t let her see!”

He swiftly swooped the girl up into his arms, and held her face against his chest complying with his friend’s wishes. Dirthara struggled, slamming her small fists and kicking at Dorian in loud protest.

“Mamae? Mamae!” she screamed. 

But Dorian only held her closer and tighter, while clenching his teeth together in despair as he watched Ellana begin to wraith in pain. Here was his dearest friend who was the first to accept him fully and completely, even helped him reconcile with the father he’d thought he was dead to…and there was nothing he could do. Her body was seizing, and spasming everywhere, twisting the covers she was beneath. She put all that was left of her strength to hold back the screams, and failed as they escaped her lips. 

“AH! AHHH!”

Dorian buried his face in Dirthara’s hair as his own tears pooled over down his cheeks, trying to ignore the screams from both mother and daughter. However then there was one less scream, and he looked up to see the Inquisitor had gone limp…he couldn’t see her chest rise and fall with breath.

“El-Ellana?” he said, stepping closer.

His teary eyes widened at the realization of her silence, and he choked on his cry before storming out of the bedchamber like he couldn’t leave faster. The companions outside all looked up at him eager to know what the screams and sudden silence meant.

“Is she?” asked Cassandra.

“She's gone!” he shouted, angrily though not really directed to her.

“Let me go!” screamed Dirthara, who was now sobbing with confusion and frustration.

Dorian’s grief overwhelmed him and he collapsed to his knees sobbing along with her. Soon everyone was brought to tears. The Inquisitor was gone.


	2. Chapter One: Dreams, Memories, & a Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A now teenage Dirthara wakes to the nightmare that was the day her mother died.

“Mamae!”

A teenage Dirthara awoke with a violent jolt and gasp in her bed. She sighed with great relief to be free from that memory reflecting nightmare. Her body was drenched in sweat, heavy beads of it dripping down her face along with…tears?

“Did I…actually cry in my sleep?” she thought, aloud.

Even her throat had a familiar ache like she’d been vigorously sobbing. A small nug that had been sleeping by her feet lifted it’s head and perked it’s ears as it stared up at his owner in curiosity and concern. She smiled and picked up her beloved pet, giving him a gentle squeeze and it sniffed her face with a light squeaky sound from his nose.

“Mommy’s ok Nutmeg.”

Her thoughts then returned to the dream, puzzled by the fact she’d cried and the fact that while she did remember that day she didn’t dream it that way she remembered. It was like she had been an invisible ghost watching Varric leave, Dorian, and her younger self come in and then…the moment when her mother died. This sent a shiver down her spine, before shaking her head and became focused on starting the day. 

Dirthara set down Nutmeg, and then drew open the curtains of her tall canopy bed, placing her feet down on the cool stone floor. The nug followed her feet as she stepped over to the windows and opened those curtains as well, allowing the dawning light into her bedchamber. It couldn’t be any earlier than six o clock in the morning. She gazed with a smile down at the waking Tevinter countryside, watching the horses trot towards the stables for their breakfast. Another thought pertaining to her dream crept into her mind, and urged her to go across the room to her ornate vanity. She rummaged through the draws until she found it, the wolf jawbone necklace her mother had given her. Her fingers traced along the still sharp teeth, then looped the strings over her head and around her neck. There were many items she had that had belonged to her mother, while this one necklace was the only thing that had belonged to her birth father. Nutmeg tapped up her legs before jumping up onto her lap, demanding her attention be on him instead of the necklace. She giggled and obliged by petting the top of his head, and again he made his soft squeaks of approval. 

The bedchamber door’s knob turned and in came a fellow elf; daughter of one of the household servants named Eloriel that Dirthara called Ellie. 

“Oh Dirthara, I was bringing a fresh wash bowl for you. My mother would have, but she’d terribly busy with preparations for tomorrow.”

Tomorrow was Dirthara’s sixteenth birthday, something she’d nearly forgotten thanks to the dream. She smiled at her longtime friend, and motioned for her to enter and sit beside her. 

“You’re not usually up this early. You alright?”

“Ugh, just a bad dream.”

Eloriel quickly placed the wash bowl on the vanity, then sat down beside her friend.

“Must have been some dream to dream you so?”

Dirthara was quiet for a moment, thinking on the image of her mother writhing in pain before going limp as life left her body.

“It was about my mother…when she died”

Eloriel eyes grew sad in understanding, and placed a comforting hand on Dirthara’s shoulder. 

“Maybe…your father can help you with it? When he gets back from the city?”

“Oh I’ll be fine Ellie, but thank you for the trouble.”

She took a cloth from the simmering hot water of the wash bowl, ringed it out, and then pressed it gently over her face. The warmth satiating her and making her feel more awake, further and further from thoughts of the dream.

“I shall leave you to get dressed than.”

Eloriel left the room, while Dirthara continued to bath herself before getting dressed careful to keep the jawbone around her neck.

Later she was in the dining hall eating her breakfast, with a huge portrait of her mother on the wall looking down at her. Little pieces of her mother, the Inquisitor were scattered throughout the manor, the portrait was the biggest and most outlandish one yet. Granted the whole place was filled with outlandish décor, with towering ceilings, windows, and doors so tall the manor could practically swallow people whole. Everything made large with sharp intimidating edges for all to know the power the family of a grand home had. Though Dirthara’s quarters were the exception, her furniture and clothes were from all over Thedas thanks to many extended family of sort often sending her them. 

Nutmeg was at her feet nibbling at whatever food she threw down for him. As she played with the food or through some down for her Nutmeg, she was more aware of the emerald eyes of her mother’s portrait more than usual thanks to the dream. The Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste’s last words to her echoed now in her mind as she stared into those eyes.

Be strong, and seek wisdom where ever you can find it. Never forget that I love you.

She had barely been three years old when her mother had died, and in fact…that day was the only real memory she had left of her mother. But before it was just foggy bits and pieces, particularly how confused she was when she’d been snatched out of that…arm? Her mother only had one arm? She’d forgotten that detail. Yet looking at the portrait she clearly had two, something must have happened…?

“My lady, are you well?” said a servant, entering the hall.

“Ah-yes. Forgive me, I was just lost in thought. Was there something you needed?”

“Yes, well not me. Your father, Magister Pavus is calling for you over the crystal.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll go there than.”

She left in a hurry, leaving her half eaten breakfast on the table, and the concerned servant staring after her. Nutmeg jumped onto the chair she'd been sitting in to gobble down the leftover food, before quickly going after Dirthara like a duckling following it's mother. As she approached the crystal chamber she could already hear the voice of her father shouting from outside the door.

“Dirthara are you there yet?”

A smile crossed her lips at the sound of his anxious voice.

“Yes Papa, I’m here now!”

“Finally my sweetheart has arrived! How are you? Excited for your birthday for tomorrow?”

She propped her elbows on the stand holding the crystal that his voice was coming from, leaning into it attentively still smiling.

“Of course.”

“Well this will be the best one yet!”

“Haha, are you can top last year’s acrobats?”

“Oh you have no idea what I have in store for you!”

“How are your fellow magisters?”

“Ugh! That is the very last subject I wish to discuss! I cannot get home to you fast enough!”

“Will you be home by tonight?”

“Unfortunately not, but I shall be there by first light tomorrow. I give you my word.”

They carried on conversing for another two hour, mostly about how things were keeping up at the country manor and Dirthara’s many private lessons on combat magic, magical theory, dance, and many other education requirements for the child of a magister (along with anything she wanted to learn). She avoided telling him anything of the dream, feeling it best it brought up once he was home.

“Aww, my sweetheart I’m afraid if I’m to make it for your birthday I must end this.”

“I shall endure Papa, come home safe.”

“I shall, and farewell. I love you…my sweetheart.”

The glow of the crystal faded till the light was gone completely. It was good to hear from him, his voice always brought her comfort the way a good father’s voice should. She exited the room, and was going to head for the stables when Eloriel came running round the corner to her.

“Dirthara! Dirthara!”

“Ellie! Ellie!” she mimicked.

“Very funny! But seriously, you’re going to be sooo happy! Someone has arrived just for you! Come at once!”

Eloriel took her by the hand and pulled her running through the halls, until they reached the entrance hall. The little nug Nutmeg could barely keep up with the two as his tiny feet squirried after them, squeaking with disapproval. Dirthara’s eyes light up with utter joy to see a familiar beardless dwarf. 

“Uncle Varric!”

He barely had time to brace himself as Dirthara slid across the floor on her knees to him and captured him in a strong embrace. His strawberry blonde hair was streaked with gray, and his eyes were creased with heavy crows feet.

“Whoa! Easy there!”

“I’ve missed you!”

She smiled brightly with glee as he brushed her hair behind her pointed ears, to get a good look at her. He thought about how much she looked more and more like her mother…and her birth father each time he visited. The hair, jaw, lips, and nose were all the Ellana he knew, the eyes were almost too if not for their cool blue. Though he wouldn’t say anything about it to her, he didn’t wish to sadden her.

“How are you Little Star?”

“I’m bigger than you, you do realize that yes?”

“You’ll always be little to me no matter how much taller you are than me. After all I changed your diapers. Now how are you?”

“Wonderful now that you’re here!”

She gave him one more hug then stood up, and looked down at him with her hands on her hips.

“You’re here early.”

“Yeah I…have an early birthday gift for you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but first we talk in more detail about this last year!”

She happily obliged, for her the real gift was having him there. Whatever the gift was, it could wait.

 

They talked in the lounge by the main fireplace for hours, well more like Varric talked for hours. Telling Dirthara extravagant tales of his city of Kirkwall, and any other instances that had inspired the old storyteller. She could never get enough of them, ever since she was very small his stories were like bread and butter. He often sent her the very first copies of his latest books. When she was a child he’d written a series of children’s books dedicated to his Little Star. While she loved reading every book he’d written, she loved even more when his voice was reading aloud them to her. But as the Viscount of Kirkwall his responsibilities often kept him from visiting as often as they’d both prefer. That, and the bit of gout he’d developed from his rich man’s diet. After exhausting every last tale he could muster, the old dwarf gave a heavy sigh knowing he could no longer avoid the gift he’d brought her.

“Ahhh, well now Little Star about that gift.

He turned to the pack he’d kept slung on his side the whole time since he’d arrived and pulled out an old worn book.

“This…” he stopped, unsure how to continue.

“Is something wrong?”

“….It’s…this is a promise I made to your mother.”

Dirthara became silent and realized what the book was, recognizing it from her dream. 

“She had me right this…it’s sort of a memoir meant for all elves to read. But she especially wanted you to read it. When you became of age.”

She remained silent, unable to say anything, and with a heavy lump growing in her throat. The dream, the nightmare replaying in her head rapidly over and over with each second.

“I’ve told you almost everything about your mother that I know. These pages will tell you what’s left…and”

He paused, standing up and walking towards her to place the book on her lap. 

“It’ll…tell you about your father too.”

She blinked, and met eye contact with him in surprise. Her birth father? All she ever knew was he died before her mother, and once Varric referred to him as “Chuckles”. No there was one more thing that he’d said to her.

“Uncle Varric why doesn’t anyone talk about my Papae?” she remembered, her child self asking him many, many years ago.

“He did…something very bad Little Star…it makes everyone sad to remember. I’ll tell you more when you’re older.” A younger, less gray haired Varric had told her.

She laid her hands on the books, tracing the Inquisition seal on the cover and then along the spine. Nutmeg who'd been laid beside her legs the whole time curiously sniffed the book. This was something she’d though she always wanted to know, yet the unsettling dream and Varric’s uneasiness made her suddenly not so sure now. 

“Do me a favor, don’t read too much of it today. I still want you to have a happy birthday tomorrow!” he said, some cheer returning to his demeanor.

She nodded and stood up with the book tightly in her hands.

“I agree, let me just put this in my bed chamber.”


End file.
